


Good Bones

by audumbs



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Love Triangles, Modern AU, adding tags as I go, alistair is simple and sweet, basically everyone - Freeform, demeter tabris is technically functional, finally meeting other characters outside of origins, i love a LOVE TRIANGLE, its ever growing, morrigan is dramatic, varric will be pining sorry for that, zevran... might be a runner for the mob?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2020-04-23 21:12:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19159084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audumbs/pseuds/audumbs
Summary: Alistair is trying to find his place in the city, get a good night's sleep, and not fall in love with his coworker slash neighbor Demeter Tabris. Varric Tethras is trying not to be pathetically in love with recently engaged Narcissa Hawke. And everyone else is just trying to get by one day at a time.





	1. Alistair Meets His Neighbor Twice

It's an exciting feeling being on your own for the first time. The independence of eating dinner whenever you want or walking around in your underwear or being as loud as you want while still being respectful of your neighbors. This was Alistair’s dream. He hadn't realized it because he spent so much time being lonely, but it was much better when no one was around to make him feel like he was alone, no cruel comparisons forming in his soft head. Well that's a lie, he has nothing really to compare it to. No friends, no girlfriends. Barely even a family. Just him. He could be whoever he wanted to be with his new job and new place. This was a redo of his life so far. He could be tougher or smarter or better at math if he so chose! Or if he bothered to get better at math.

 

So, now it's just him but on purpose. All alone in his apartment with his thoughts and the new episode of Property Brothers as his company. Paradise. He fell asleep to the sound of Jonathan and Drew Scott not just fixing the big four walls of Dexter and Megan’s new fixer-upper but also fixing the walls around their souls. He dreamt happily of the Scott’s fixing his own apartment.

 

They knocked on his door. “Alistair, do we have a surprise for you!” Drew Scott announced. He could barely contain his excitement upon hearing those words from beyond the door because this was a dream and he knew what was going to happen, which involved renovating his new space that was also somehow three times bigger and had a pool. But his hair! It was a wreck, unworthy of television and the Scott’s attention. Those bastards had beautiful hair. And what was he working with? A deflated mess. He had to hurry to his renovation-worthy bathroom to fix this disaster. "ALISTAIR you've gotta oh. oh.. oooh my, oh."

 

That was weird. And didn't entirely sound like Drew Scott, maybe Jonathan? But what could've made him-- "oh  _ maker _ , oh please"

 

That couldn't be the Scott brothers any longer, Alistair decided. He must've entered a different dream because that muffled voice clearly belonged to a woman, which he wouldn't personally know those sounds from his own experiences but he can imagine. Not that he imagined. He respects women and their autonomy and would never use them for his personal gain like that. He's a gentleman. He thinks.

 

Regardless, that was definitely a woman's sounds of, aherm, pleasure. And she seemed very please by the volume and the consistent nature. It wasn't until one large "AHH" that woke him from his sleep. And he, much to his dismay, continued to hear these sounds above him. Alistair wanted them to stop and old, drab, boring Alistair would've just waited for his neighbor to cease her ruckus on her own but not this new Alistair. Still convinced he could, nay, would be a new man he marched up those stairs, t-shirt and boxers on, mind strong, fists ready to knock. oh god, maybe not though. The sudden knowledge of what he had to do making all sorts of doubts wind up in his head and stomach. This was stupid. He was stupid. But he was here, pacing outside his neighbor's door, at what has to be 1 am. There's no going back from that. He slapped his face with both his hands, shook out his arms, and knocked on that door. He heard the sound of the “event” stop moving for a second. Silence. And then the creek of the mattress letting loose weight and (thankfully) much lighter pattering of footsteps. And then the door opening.

 

She was either entirely too trusting or entirely too stupid, she opened the door without the chain, no fear in her heart for a murderer or intruder. She looked at him confused. She wore an older, ratty robe and nothing else-- clearly not dressed for a neighborly introduction.

 

"Hi. Sorry to bother you. I'm your new neighbor."

 

She looked disappointed at this development. "Kim moved out?"

 

Alistair didn't know. "Uh, well I don't know," he said, because it was true. "I’m in the apartment below you." A new emotion moved across her face resting at her eyebrows in obvious confusion.

 

"Really?" Or maybe disbelief now that he thought about it. And heard it in her voice. "No one’s moved in there the entire time I've had this apartment-- hey Zevran!" she shouted to whom he assumed was her special guest in the other room, "Someone moved in downstairs!"

 

"What!" the man said back, also clearly in disbelief and not because he didn't hear her. Alistair was considering calling his real estate agent to ask her what she forgot to mention about his new apartment. 

 

She shook her head and raised one shoulder and her hair tossed about, not intentionally like one of those soap commercials but coming across that way regardless. Alistair thought her hair was pretty even when it was messy like that. And then he felt weird for thinking that. "Weird. Let me know if it’s haunted. Anyway, welcome to the building!" she said, prepared to close the door. Alistair made a sound of panic.

 

"W-wait! uh, I actually, um came up here to uh ask if you could maybe be a little bit quieter?"  It was realization now.

"Oh! Yeah, yeah. Yeah, of course. Sorry about that, we will keep it down." She started to close the door again, "Have a good night."

 

And she was gone. And so was the noise for the night. He could finally get that home renovation in peace. Alistair did it, officially new and improved. Nothing could stop him now.

  
  
  


It was three weeks before they crossed paths again. This time, in the basement dwellings of the law firm he had barely managed to get a job with as some measly IT guy. Duncan, his boss, assured him that these lawyers never need IT, all the networks are already set up, there was a binder with important account information, and everyone uses their own laptops anyway. And should the need arise he should simply inform them to restart their device. This seemed to be the dream job. There was always noise of some kind and a group of people who were there, often doing nothing.

 

And then, as if he were meant for misery, in walks his upstairs neighbor, whom he interrupted in the middle of a night-time encounter. Duncan was leading the way, announcing details of the workplace (to the left is where you can find a coat room, past that is the bathroom, don't get them confused) and introducing her to everyone she crosses paths with. Alistair sunk into his seat and rubbed the gold token on his lap slowly and thoroughly. He shot a glance nervously at the figurine on his desk and at his computer screen, which was a Buzzfeed list on ways to make your new apartment cozy while also being environmentally friendly. She couldn't know these things about him. He would much prefer that she didn't know he existed anymore and instead believed he was part of a very weird dream. or if she did have to know he existed it was in a "i passed you on the staircase looking handsome and manly as you succeed in maneuvering your keys out of your pocket in a nonthreatening way while holding your grocery bags containing a suspicious amount of produce that leads me to believe you have your life together in some pivotal way." This thought was barely completed when he saw a figure in front of his desk and then another from the tops of his eyes. He took a moment to pray to the Maker. He was a good person, maybe and didn't want any additional reason for awkwardness, as he was quite skilled at coming up with it on his own. Maybe she didn't even work here, maybe she was taking a tour. The world famous IT group for a law firm in Denerim, who wouldn't want to see where the magic happened?

 

He took a moment to wonder how long he had spent thinking of this but decided to look up before he took any longer. "Alistair this is--"

 

"Oh shit, we met before?" his neighbor said pointing at him cooly. Maker, he would give anything to be able to assign the adjective cooly to what he was doing. Instead, he reached out a hand for her to shake, which she did firmly, like she knew what she was doing. They taught him about that in college, the importance of that first handshake and she nailed it first try. This was going to be humiliating.

 

Duncan looked between them for a moment. "You do?" Alistair nodded, trying not to give away his embarrassment.

 

"He's my neighbor. Glad to see you in pants."

 

"I could say the same for you." She smiled at that, holding a chuckle behind her closed mouth. He liked it, sort of slanted, lips almost pursed to the side but in a sly way.

 

Duncan moved a hand to guide her to the next stop of their tour but she turned to Alistair one last time before moving, "You. Me. We should carpool. Or take the subway together. I don't have a car." He thinks he nodded but she turned away and he was filled with such a sudden relief of not having to seem put together he thought he might pass out from the amount of air he was finally able to breathe and wasn't sure he ever actually moved his head. He could barely handle being spoken to by the people that worked here already, adding in his beautiful neighbor was seemingly miserable. He wasn't a cool guy, to put it simply and embarrassingly.

 

However, Buzzfeed called to him and it was easy to forget everything around you when you can find out what kind of shoe you are.

 

 

Alistair barely managed to escape walking home with the girl whose name he did not catch, mostly because it was never thrown in his direction.

 

Well actually, she began to leave and upon noticing her leaving Alistair hid in the bathroom for another fifteen minutes just to be positive that they wouldn't accidentally start walking side by side and then Alistair would need to think of something to talk about because if he was just walking some paces behind her that would be creepy and her couldn't push her aside to race ahead that would also be rude. And what if she saw him walking ahead and started talking to him? Which wouldn't necessarily be bad, per se, oh Maker he should have walked with her. He didn't even make plans to walk-pool/subway-pool/uber-pool together.

 

This is what plagued his thoughts as he walked into his building. He began to approach the mailboxes when he noticed the dark, gothy girl going through her letters and magazines, of which there were many. Like too many. Who needs that many magazines? He went to the mailbox beside hers and opened it up to find one measly envelope-- but it was addressed to him! Not to current resident of the last person who lived there. Hello, library card. He felt goofy about how much excitement this filled him with. Of course, it was a bill, but still it was a sign of his independence and this new part of his life. He can prove residency to the government. He can move on to something better.

 

He looked up to the girl who seemed to be scrutinizing something about an Elle magazine. The woman looked up at him as if she could kill him. "What is it that you're looking at? Does watching me get my mail amuse you?" Alistair had a feeling she might actually kill him with how she spoke. Such annunciation, such a cold, cold stare. He took a step back with a slightly, uncomfortable laugh. "What? Too foolish to answer?"

 

"Uh, well no. To both I guess." He pretended to notice the time on the broken clock behind this woman. "Oh would you look at the time, I've gotta go." And he booked it up the stairs to his apartment, back to safety. He's a different person than he was but, no matter how he turned his personality around inside himself, he was also still the same young boy scared of harsh-worded people and confrontation.

 

Maybe tomorrow he would walk to work with his neighbor.


	2. Demeter and Alistair Go to Work and Alistair Happens to Learn Her Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they run into an important lawyer.

Demeter Tabris stirred to the whirring sound of the blender and the waking morning light. She groaned and completely flung off the eye mask she put on her face the night before out of her hair where it had become nested. She didn’t want to move. Not yet. She didn't know what time it was but she knew it had to be too early so she rolled back over and flung back in surprise.

"Oh my-"

"Fuck,"

"Okay give me a second," Zevran said. His voice was groggy and barely there and he touched his chest where she had accidentally elbowed him in her roll. His blonde hair was greasy and she could see where it had knotted from the pillow as he rose up to sit. She touched her own hair to feel what disaster was created overnight. What a pair they must’ve been.

"I thought you left?"

"I was too tired." He yawned and rubbed his eyes. The clock beside him said 6:42 am.

"Huh." She probably knew that and had forgotten. It was always a little unpredictable with Zevran, he had a busy schedule that involved sometimes being up very, very early and for many hours to operating on regular, people hours.

Truth was, they were also pretty unpredictable as a not-couple. They weren't dating but sometimes he would stay over after fucking and wake up in the morning and make her breakfast. They had never tried to define something and the more that time had passed the messier the lines seemed to get. Demeter didn’t want to think about it. They were friends.

The blender caught something in it's blades, probably some unruly ice, and Morrigan could be heard cursing technology. Demeter didnt want to get up for the morning just because Morrigan was crazy and wanted a smoothie before work or something stupid.

Now that she was a real adult with a real 9-5 job she found her friends wild and their unpredictable schedules childish. Not really, but what was the point of having an office job if not for the sense of superiority? She could sleep in another hour if she wanted and it was ruined. Zevran also didn't seem too pleased, his head drifted down to his chest, eyes heavy, almost back into sleep before even laying back down. Demeter got up and startled him awake. Not a state that would stick, probably.

She crept out of her room to watch her roommate add more almond milk into the blender in an attempt to solve her ice problem. And frozen fruit problem. And life problems, if she had to guess.  
"Good morning, sunshine," Demeter said leaning over their couch to face her in the kitchen.

"Oh dear. Did I wake you and your hobby up?"

"No, I always wake up at 6:30. It keeps me young. What’s with the smoothie?"

Morrigan turned the blender on. The red head moved lazily to the fridge and poured herself some orange juice. She leaned on the fridge door until her roommate stopped pulsing the blender. "My mother's coming."

Demeter slowly put down the juice, moved toward her roommate, and put her hand on top of the hand that held the pulse button.  
"No amount of smoothies will fix this. At six am or otherwise. Go to bed."

"I have a job too, Demeter. Lest you forget my mother's unfortunate grip on my life."

"I wouldn't call THAT a grip. Maybe an influence." Morrigan sighed dramatically. If Demeter were forced to choose only one word to describe Morrigan it'd be a tough call. There were so many to go with: genius, talented, smart, beautiful, but with all that considered she'd have to pick dramatic. It was in her blood, along with those other things (her mother, Flemeth, was basically god-like, but Morrigan could never admit that, nor should anyone try to tell her), but most notably dramatic.

Actors, amiright?

Morrigan poured her gross looking smoothie into some pretentious smoothie drinking vessel that Gwenyth Paltrow or some Orlesian icon endorses. Her eyes were dark and her skin overly pale, and she could see the heaviness in her roommates movement. Demeter thought about saying something else but the truth was that she didn't know what to say. Sorry your mom sucks?

"I'll be home late." Morrigan spoke first. This was unsurprising considering she was often home late into the night when she was in a show. And those old plays can go on for hours. Demeter would know, she's gone to see all of them.

"I'll be home earlier than you."

She decided to get ready rather than try to sucker in those last thirty minutes of sleep. The sun had managed to show its bright face slowly, managing to hit the early morning angle that's absolutely blinding and turns people into night owls. Demeter thought about her decision to get an 8-5 desk job briefly.

Next she thought about her decision to wait outside her neighbors door at 7:20 am. She didn't know how early he got up, or got ready, or left for work, and she was ready and had nothing else to do so she sat against the hallway wall, idly browsing her phone for anything interesting. A potential conversation starter on the way to work, maybe? The slight movements beyond the wall assured her that her neighbor, Alistair was his name she recalled, was still getting ready. And a small thud and an exclamation alerted her that he probably stubbed his toe. And his hair yesterday told her that most of his morning routine probably revolved around hair wax.

The door opened as any door would and out popped alistair, who let out a small shout. "Oh maker, you scared me!" He had his arm propped on the door knob while he gathered himself. "Did you stand there waiting for the perfect moment or just unfortunate timing?"

"We're supposed to commute together, remember?"

"Ah yes, I vaguely remember you saying that as you were rushed away to your office tour."

"Only vaguely? And you didnt recognize me yesterday either," she thumbed the worn-down purse strap on her shoulder as she turned towards the stairs and gave a disappointed tsk, "I’m gonna have to become more memorable." Alistair laughed at that.

"I hadn’t seen you in fluorescent lighting before, really changes the view."

"And i hadnt seen you with pants on but I still managed to work it out."

She noticed how easy it was to communicate their movement without speaking, she took the lead down the stairs and he, perhaps without even knowing, beckoned silently with only a small finger movement which direction out of the apartment building to go. A small but needed gesture for Demeter who, although has lived in this city her whole life, did not quite remember the way to work. "Now that's impressive. Most people get too mesmerized by my hairy, unflattering thighs to notice my face."

Demeter tilted her head back laughing. The sun had yet to become annoying in their direction and the day was still cool and even though she was up regrettably early, she was enjoying the walk. She liked Denerim, she grew up in the Elvhen quarter which was probably not as nice as the area she was in now (also not very nice but free) but it felt like home and that feeling spread into all the cracks of the city. Each new place she went, which still happened often, Demeter felt a love for it. Something familiar and warm but new all the same, like meeting a cousin for the first time. She was going to ask her walking companion where he grew up but he had already begun taking again.

Alistair looked over to her slightly, he had his hands in his pockets either because he didn't know what to do with them or the morning chill was a little too biting, Demeter couldn’t tell which. He looked back to where they were walking, which was smart. The sidewalks were busted. "First day went well I take it?" she shrugged. "Well you came back and that's what matters."

"Not much for quitting."

"Good! Good." Demeter laughed again. He was like a puppy. "I mean, I'm glad you like us. The job."

"I haven't actually done work yet, but you're really selling it," it was like you could see the twinkle in his eyes, like the flecks of gold in them just went berserk. That stopped when some man in a fancy suit started yelling at his someone through his cell phone as he rushed beside them and towards the building.

"--and we can't build a case if we have nothing to defend. We need the information sent over immediately. Do you understand?" He then repeated the last part for emphasis. His black hair was so shiny in the sun it looked almost greasy and his age was apparent on his face.

Demeter looked at Alistair as if to say 'get a load of this guy,' and Alistair caught her stare. He leaned in close, "Loghain Mac Tir. He's been with the firm for 20 years. Big time lawyer back in the day."

She was not impressed and she could sense from Alistair's tone that he wasn't either. They were even less impressed when he stood in front of the automatic doors, keeping it open and letting the air conditioned air out while simultaneously blocking them from entering.

The two of them tried to slip in on the side of the scary lawyer when he hung up the phone.

"Oh, Alistair. and..."

"Demeter."

Alistair made a slight face in the corner of her eye. "I assume she is another one of your little wardens. Protecting our clients by protecting our computers. Very admirable." His voice drifted along with his eyes as he found something interesting behind himself towards the office building here both of the employees could see nothing of importance. "Excuse me."

And thankfully he was off and away from them. The two stood there for a second. Demeter slipped her phone from her pocket just enough to catch the time. There was too much of it left before work. Why did he leave so early? Why does she always leave so early? Would they be the first ones there? The only ones? She walked on in anyway.

 

Demeter leaned over her desk towards alistair "Psssst,"

He looked up from his screen. "Alistair " she added as if she had not already gotten his attention. "Are you going to the Deep Roads tonight?"

"You're doing the joining tonight?"

"Do they always do it there?" Alistair looked away for a second, she guessed in thought. Or maybe he was ending the conversation for such an inane question. He lifted his hair up. She noticed that his hair didn't bounce or move at all with his head. Lots of hair gel. She made a mental note to introduce him to mousse or hair spray or hair wax or honestly anything else.

"I believe so, yeah. It's the only place that makes that... certain type of drink."

"Awful?"

"To put it plainly, yes." Demeter laughed a little. Alistair was friendly, albeit shy. It looked like he was never sure if he wanted to make eye contact or not.

"Weird. I've never seen you there before. I'm there all the time with my friends." She was certain that if she hadn't seen him he would have definitely seen her. Not only was she good friends with the man who owns the bar (Oghren, a dwarf unprepossessing in both looks and personality) but she also tended to be surrounded by a gaggle of others. Alistair looked far off for a split second and then nodded.

"I wouldn't call that weird. It would be weirder if we ran into each other there, too. How many places can we run into each other before we're just following each other around." He had that glint again. "Not that I've been following you. I feel I should make that clear."

"Oh, I would know if you've been following me. Because I've been following you. I love the soap you bought the other day by the way, lemon verbena really suits the fall."

Alistair laughed. "Don’t let this go to your head,” he said pointing to his own smiling mouth, “I have to laugh at everything you say now that I know you could kill me."

“I’ll make sure I don’t feel flattered, then.”

“Good.” He nodded. 

“Good.” She nodded back.


	3. In Which Demeter Gets a Drink and Hawke Shows Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demeter participates in a workplace ritual and gets a ride home from Hawke.

If you were going to understand the general vibe of the Deep Roads, you must first understand that there are only seven regulars, who are all friends and are also friends with the owner. It is debatable if they are there on their own accord. People come and go, like the IT nerds at Theirin & Theirin, but for the most part it keeps a low profile. Meaning, no one really likes it. Not with the battered faux leather of the bar stools, a carpeted floor that has stains on it from the dawn of time probably, dim lighting, and a permanent smell of smoke. Still, tonight there had been double the usual crowd for the “joining,” as Duncan called it. A ritual that started years ago, when the law firm first got on its feet. The IT folks had gone bar hopping and stumbled-- literally, the stairs heading downward from the sidewalk are hard to see in the poor street light-- right into Oghren’s lap. He served them his signature drink, and they all agreed it was the worst thing they have ever tasted. Since then, they had brought each new employee to experience the cocktail.

Oghren had taken it off the menu after that and only made it for those who requested it by name, which were just The Wardens, as they were affectionately called. 

So when Demeter had this drink for the first time it was like the seven stages of grief but faster and more. Like nine or ten stages in 60 seconds. How could her friend do this to her? 

“Fuck-- Maker-- dying this is what dying feels like.” Demeter said trying to balance herself with the edge of a table living long past it is due-life, clutching the burning feeling in her chest. Zevran laughed. If she had a sober thought in her brain it would probably go like “I should probably stop drinking and go home before I fall down and crack my head open and die instantly, scarring all of my dear friends and the people from work who haven’t left yet until their own dying breath after their lives have been plagued with the horrid thoughts on mortality.” 

Duncan leaned over to Alistair, “She wouldn’t be the first person to die.” He sounded so solemn, Alistair looked alarmed. He looked back at his coworker, who finally seemed mostly balanced. Another coworker tried to have her sit but she seemed keen to keep standing. Actually, she seemed keen to start climbing up on top of the closest chair, which was proving difficult. After the coworker failed to keep her grounded, another woman had come up to her to try and keep her from falling off. The lady looked over her shoulder and called the Qunari man sitting at the bar. He stood near the mess and did nothing for a moment. Finally, after what seemed to be a tedious conversation, he lifted her up, took her in his arms for a moment, and then placed her gently on the chair. He went back to the bar. 

“I think she’ll do just fine.” Duncan added, gazing into his beer before taking another sip. 

 

Outside the Deep Roads just two or three streets down the way, depending on how you thought about it, was an Uber parked under the bright lights of the McDonald’s golden arches. In said Uber was one Narcissa Hawke and Varric Tethras, drinking milkshakes, eating fries, and generally discussing the great complexities of the world. 

“What do you mean my brother was coming out of Merrill’s apartment at 9 am. I don’t think Carver can physically wake up before 11.” Hawke said, her entire upper body bolting up from her reclined car seat. She almost spilt her drink all over herself. 

Varric put his hand up in a pledge, "I’m just telling you what I heard." she scooped some milkshake up with her fries and took a bite, looking forlornly in the distance, shaking her head slightly. There was nothing left to do but eat more french fries about it. 

And also wait to see what happened. Things with Hawke were always either immediate or a problem for 3-years-from-now Hawke. It was sometimes hard to guess which would be which. Perhaps Carver or Merrill will tell Hawke about it and everything will be fine, or maybe in a couple of years Merrill will get pregnant and then they have to admit to their clandestine romance and things will probably also be fine. Hawke returned to being horizontal.

Varric leaned his head back in his upward seat, his hair pricking at his neck, and he watched her for a second, watch may be too strong a word. Let's fix that. Gazed. That seems too apathetic. Okay, okay. Noticed her. Varric noticed her. Notice is as good a word as any, noticing being something he was primarily skilled at. He typically noticed a little bit better around Hawke. 

For example, he noticed her phone began to vibrate in the center console. Once, for a text message (from Anders), and then immediately afterwards for one of her Uber alerts. 

She picked up the cracked device, weathered from many misadventures, and slid open the lockscreen. She pulled her seat upward, fastened her seatbelt, pressed the brake and said, "Alright, to the Deep Road we go. Buckle up, dwarf." 

 

Hawke pulled right up to the bar and the three people standing in front of it. She could only assume these were the folks she would be escorting home. 

She vaguely recognized them, but the name was new to her. 

"Alistair?" she called out the window, looking at the one with the darker blonde hair who she recognized least. He nodded and motioned for the other two to take a step forward. The red head was being held up by the other blonde man and she was clearly on a different plane altogether. Her face was smashed into his neck and trying to do something, but he was keeping her steady. Alistair quickly moved ahead to open the door. He shared a look with the other man that neither Varric nor Hawke could truly see as he pulled the girl into the car. 

Varric made a comment under his breath and Hawke coughed to cover her laugh.

"Alster," the girl slurred, "than you for th, the uder. Uder. The ride." She had leaned over the other one to pat Alistair's face. The middle one laughed as he tried to get her back in the seat. She grabbed his face and started babbling entirely too close to him. Alistair stiffened and looked out the window, making space between him and the other man. Zebran, if the drunk one could be trusted, which she guessed she couldn't.

Hawke's eyes darted between them in her rearview mirror and occasionally back to the road. Varric tried not to turn around and instead watched what he could from the reflection on the passenger's side. They both knew how to appreciate entertainment in all its forms.

"Uver drider, do you jugeit?" 

Hawke made eye contact with her in the mirror, "You should consider drinking a gallon or two of water before bed tonight."

Varric turned his head to his friend, "Well, do you?" 

"Are you with? Are, are you ours?" she asked looking between her friends. And then to Varric. And then to her friends. Her face twisted. 

"No, no. He's definitely not." Alistair confirmed. "Who are you, exactly? Are you here to rob us?" 

Zebran leaned over to the nameless drunk, "He owns your apartment building."

"I also live in that building, you know." The other one crossed his arms. 

He shook his head. Hawke could see from the corner of her eye how is mouth shifted before he spoke. "I'm supervising." Zebran let out a snort and Alistair's eyebrows merged.

After a moment, the lady crossed her arms. She tried to say words-- or maybe just sounds.

Leaned up close to the man again, "she don'nt geit," and rested her head on his shoulder. If it was because she had finally crashed for the night or if it was just the crippling disappointment of talking to someone who is not also drunk was anyone's guess. 

He reached across his body to brush away some hair stuck to her face in a rather unpleasant fashion. His fingers graced the bottom of her jaw as if it was meant to be swift but instead got played back in slow motion. Alistair had looked over and quickly turned back, almost pink at the sight. 

Hawke quickly averted her eyes back to the road, clearly having eavesdropped enough. Maker forbid she get in another wreck.

 

After she had dropped them off, Varric tsked. 

"You got too invested. We know what happens when you get nosy."

She just rolled her eyes, "I don't believe you're one to talk. You have little gossipers all around town."

"Yeah, but you looked interested. Interesting doesn't bode well with you."

"Is that why I spend all of my time with you?"

Varric grinned as she drove off.

 

Narcissa's keys hit the side table hard as she dragged herself inside. Driving around could be exhausting, sure, but she hadn't slept the night before which really made things exhausting. She pulled out her hair tie with her tangled hairs stuck tightly around it and dug her fingers through it. Blonde hair shaking out, a sign that the day was almost through. At last.

She didn't have much time to ruminate on it, though, because the quick pattering of feet alerted her that Spaghetti was on her way.

Spaghetti barreled right into her and if she did not have the experienced muscles it required to stay up when headbutted by a mabari going 80 miles per hour, she would probably be passed out on the floor. She scratched her ears and rubbed her face, "Awwww was Anders ignoring you? How could he ignore such a good girl. You’re such a good girl."

From upstairs a voice rang out, "I was not ignoring her!" 

Narcissa patted her leg in a gesture for Spaghetti to follow her. She happily jumped around her friend as she made her way to her room. Anders was already turned towards the door from the desk to face her. She leaned down to kiss him before working her way to her wardrobe to change into pajamas.

"How was work?" Anders asked, turning to face her in the other direction now. They both knew work was a loose term for what she did. Meandering around in a car occasionally picking people up, occasionally hanging out with friends, and sometimes getting involved in someone else's problems could barely count as work considering she wasn’t being paid for most of it.

Hawke flipped her hair out from under her shirt and caught a look in the mirror. Not at herself, who was also there, right in front, actually, but at Anders in the back. He must've worked late because his back couldn't seem to hold him up well and his eyes seemed heavy. He took a sip of something amber on the desk as she answered, "Carver might be dating Merrill. Or sleeping with her. Not sure, Varric heard it." He coughed. 

"What?" 

"I know. Maybe it'll make Carver less insufferable."

"Oh, I doubt it. He has a real knack for it." He went back to his laptop and continued typing, "He hasn't been around here lately, so if he's being insufferable at least it's not around us."

"Poor Merrill." Narcissa moved back around to Anders' chair and rested her head against his and draped her arms around his chest. "Are you coming to bed?" 

He sighed into her. "Soon, my love. I just need to write a little bit more." She squeezed his chest a little bit before standing up, caressed a little bit of skin on his neck not covered by hair with her hands on their way up, and moved towards their bed. He picked up his laptop and drink. "I won't be much longer." 

She was sure that wasn't true but she crawled under the covers and curled onto her side. She didn't have to worry about feeling lonely because Spaghetti curled up right next to her. He turned around at the door frame to get another look before scurrying off downstairs. 

Hawke finally fell asleep.


	4. Varric Goes to a Party He is Rather Unexcited By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric lamenting about his hard-knock life while sometimes being accompanied by Isabella.

Varric Tethras was a man about town. It was possible some people maybe even wanted to be him-- and he had half a mind to let ‘em. 

 

You see, the Tethras family of old was rich and successful (much like the Tethras family today) and really learned to make a recognizable name for themselves that stood the test of time. Which causes the trouble of being recognized. It had been easier for Varric as the younger brother, the supposed playboy the tabloids needed while he and his friends spent time in the bar he bought and keeping a comfortable lifestyle. (The Hanged Man did not make a serious amount of revenue for the family but that didn’t matter when you owned half the city anyway. Plus, Varric liked it there and could afford to help out the previous owner when he thought he would have to give the place up for good.)

 

It was his brother, Bartrand, who really held the family pressure. He pulled the strings of the show and managed all the properties and accounts until his lyrium problem got the best of him and he was sent to rehab. This left Varric to face the wrath of familial responsibility. And boy did he feel it. As terrible as it was, visiting his brother once again, Varric envied him. Just a little, but enough.

 

“They won’t let me out of this sodding place,” Batrand said again. He said this every time he bothered to visit him. They sat in a communal room playing cards, as they always did, and Varric felt like dying, like he always did. 

 

“I’m sure if you stopped paying people to smuggle you in lyrium they would let you leave.” 

 

Bartrand huffed at that. He huffed at many things so this wasn’t particularly meaningful. “Now show me your hand,” Varric said, placing the angel card down in front of them before showing his own. 

 

He was the winner, imagine that. 

 

"Better luck next time, brother." Varric muttered pushing all the cards back into a pile. Bartrand leaned back in his chair, looking at something in the distance before turning back. "Someone trying to kill you in rehab or is your supply coming in?"

 

"Shut up." 

 

"I love the bonding we get to do here." He thought about the moment outside of himself. ' _ the dwarf leaned back in his chair cooly as his contact approached, his brother across the table none the wiser as he cleaned up his mess yet again.' _

 

He wondered what Hawke was up to. Probably something better than this. 

 

He felt his stomach twist, drop, pull, at the thought of Hawke. He had to stop thinkinking like this. 

 

Narcissa Hawke jiggled the door handle while she shoved her entire body against the massive door in the hope that it would suddenly open the door.

 

“Carver still has a key I could call him right now.” Anders reasoned. It was important to reason while holding groceries, especially when said groceries included ice cream, which they did, obviously.

 

Narcissa slammed her side against the door once more. “It would take him twenty minutes just to get here if he even answered his phone.” She stood up and straightened her shirt so it was back in line with her jeans and not ridden halfway up her torso. She pushed loose hairs out of her face. “Plus, poor Spaghetti is in there all alone and I’m sure she’s hungry.”

 

He put the groceries down against the building wall, fully committing now to the heist of their own house. “Okay,” he said, “but we both know she knows how to get the food herself. She’s a very smart dog.” She barked from inside the house. 

 

“Spaghetti, can you hear us?”

 

A bark.

 

“It’s me Rissy, can you open the door for us?” To be honest, this was not the silliest thing they’ve ever done. Although, outside their house in the middle of a richer district than Anders had ever belonged in, wearing clothes stained with cheesy meat from their lunch at Taco Bell, seemed to be one of his worst moments. Even if no one was staring, he felt that they were. Perhaps if he did not fit the part enough he would return to crashing at the clinic. 

 

Narcissa pushed her face against the door and heard Spaghetti's collar clinking through the house. 

 

“If she opens that door that means she could’ve opened it at any point and let us struggle for fun.” Anders shook his head at the thought. “Or maybe she thought we were smarter than we are. “ Nails clattered against the wooden door and they could feel through the door the dogs own body suddenly pushed against it.

 

"Don't say that! Nothing could be worse than disappointing her." Rissy gasped. They heard her paw at the door again and then her little pink nose pushing through.

 

“The smartest dog in all the land.” Narcissa said proudly wobbling her ears and giving her a sweet kiss on the head. Her boyfriend grabbed the groceries and followed suit and, still praising Spaghetti, she made her way to the stairs. 

 

Anders patted down his jean pockets in this moment alone, checking to make sure all valuables were still accounted for. Wallet, keys, phone, engagement ring. Check, check, check, check. He began to put away groceries and Ser Pounce-A-Lot swaggered into the kitchen and leapt onto the island. He watched, purring, before Spaghetti came running in. She tried to jump at him, but the cat quick on his feet jumped onto Anders back and scrambled into his shoulder. Spaghetti whimpered in her sadness. 

 

Anders could do this. He can do this. He will do this. 

  
  


Varric never got tired of how bustling the Hanged Man was during the day. It made up in buckets for how quiet his childhood house was and he ate it up. He loved that he knew drunk patrons stories before their names, he loved that the bartenders seemed genuinely happy to see him not just because he was the owner, he loved that when he tried to sleep it was loud enough to avoid his thoughts when needed. The Hanged Man was the whole package. 

 

Varric started to climb the stairs up to his room when Isabella came into view. She had a shoulder to the wall and a hip popped out. 

 

“So, what do you think of this whole ‘party’?” Varric walked past her and unlocked his door. Isabella sauntered in behind him and placed herself on his couch. Her eyes followed him to his desk and watched him drop his coat on the chair. 

 

“I think it’ll be a nice gathering of friends that ends with you owing me 20 soveriegns.”

 

She laughed. “Varric. We all know  _ that _ will never happen.” He shrugged her off and continued to look around his room for something before settling back in his chair, giving up. “But you know what  _ will _ happen tonight?”

 

“We all know what will happen, Rivani.” 

 

“C’mon. It’ll be fuuuun.” She said pulling herself up from the couch and making her way to the dwarf. “We can get really drunk, Fenris can get really drunk, Carver can be moody the entire time it’ll be just like old times.” She sat down on the arm of the chair, and placed her legs over his. She rubbed his shoulder kindly and he rested, hesitantly, a hand on her leg. Finally, Isabella spoke again, softer than is usual for her, a voice saved for only the most vulnerable of moments, one Varric had only heard once before, “We’re pathetic, no?”

 

“Very.” They both were able to laugh at that. 

  
  


Hawke stood stunned. Her hair was messy and she her body was shaking, probably from all the energy she was holding in trying not to cry. Anders knelt in front of her on one knee with a ring in his hands and he was wearing a shirt stained by a burrito supreme. She had never been more in love. 

 

“I never thought I could ever be so lucky as to be loved by you. I--”

 

Narcissa couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Yes.” Anders laughed, but a gurgling laugh, his throat was wet with tears already.    
  


“I haven’t even asked yet. Let me ask you proper.” She knelt down in front of him and grabbed his face. She kissed him, and then kissed him again, and again. And then once more for good measure. And then another just because. He rested one of his hands on top of hers and brought it down and she slowed before stopping. 

 

“Haven’t changed your mind now have you?” She asked softly, mouth still close to his. 

 

He rested his forehead on hers and slipped the ring on her finger. “Never.”

 

She wiped a tear away from her face and then wiped the many tears away from his, with both her hands, and got a chance to really notice the ring on her finger. She felt like her heart was going to malfunction. 

 

Meanwhile, Anders mostly felt unworthy. But then she kissed him again and peeled off her shirt and he was much more distracted by that to feel his overwhelming self-pity. 

  
  


Speaking of self-pity, three of their friends stood outside the house complaining about anything except what they were actually upset about as they debated when to knock. 

 

Fenris was the one to pull out the cigarettes, which truly began the party outside because it meant at least a five minute commitment of standing and talking outside on top of the ten minutes they had already been out there. Isabella and Varric both took one. 

 

“Oh look!” Merrill said cheerily as she approached the group, Carver at her side, “Almost everyone is here!” 

 

“I was just at Gamlen’s so I figured me and Merrill could--”

 

“I assure you, no one cares.” Fenris interrupted before taking one last drag and scraping it against the wall. He gingerly put it back inside the pack. “I know you hate the smell,” he explained, nodding towards the other elf. 

 

She glew at that, “Really? Oh that’s so sweet.” 

 

“Time to face the music, then?” Isabella asked, following suit. “At least then we’ll be able to drink.”

 

“Of course that’s all you care about.” Aveline’s voice came from behind her, Donnic not far behind. “I still can’t believe it. Hawke getting married.”

 

The group mostly looked miserable, save for Merrill who was as happy as could be by the news. “Isn’t it exciting? Oh, I can’t wait to see the ring!” Fenris opened the door while this was going on and the group funneled their way inside. Varric watched Carver touch Merrill’s back and quickly pull his hand away, and he watched everyone in front slowly get their hugs one by one and a look at the prize rock. He noticed the way Hawke looked down at it lovingly and then back to Anders like a punch in the gut. Maybe only to him, but still.  _ The golden-haired goddess looked at the ring on her slender, beautiful hands like it was the last good thing in Thedas. But there was a hesitancy about the smile, like she could tell there was something missing in her life, like a dwarf sized hole in her heart that could never be filled by the handsome doctor she was now betrothed to.  _

 

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. No matter what he wrote in his head, Narcissa Hawke was going to marry Anders and that was that.

 

He smiled and handed Anders the bottle of wine he bought. “Congratulations, Blondie. Looks like you finally caught a break.” 


End file.
